


of sparks and moonlight

by therentyoupay



Series: After Dark [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Complete, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentyoupay/pseuds/therentyoupay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>COMPLETE.</strong> In which the man in the moon isn't a man at all; five drabbles, five moments, five thousand lifetimes. — Crossover, Jack Frost/Princess Yue. (After Dark!verse.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ( i )

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own either characters, worlds, or storylines! Kudos to Bryke and Dreamworks.  
>  **Genre:** Crossover (The Rise of the Guardians/Avatar: The Last Airbender)  
>  **Pairing:** Jack Frost/Princess Yue  
>  **Rating:** T/PG-13  
>  **Summary:** In which the man in the moon isn't a man at all. — Crossover, Jack Frost/Princess Yue.  
>  **Author's Notes:** _12/2/12._ Having read _After Dark_ is not necessary, I suppose... but it will help.
> 
> **Musical Inspiration:** "Let Me Sign" by Roberto Pattinson.

* * *

"You're," he rasps, throat run dry. "You're..."

_A lie.  
_

She smiles sadly.

"Hello, Jack."

* * *

He is confused.

"I know that you have lost much," she speaks to him, and this is wrong, wrong, _wrong,_ Jack thinks. She is a ghost to his eyes, but Pitch could never have imagined something so _bright_ _,_ and so he has no idea what to make of her. "And for many years, you had gained little," she continues. "I am happy to see that you have found your family at last, Guardian."

"But why?" Jack wants to know. He wants to know because his heart feels like it might burst, and this feeling isn't going away. "Why the—I don't—what _took_ you so long?" He holds onto his staff with white-knuckled fingers, leaning against it with all his weight. "I don't understand."

"There is still much to be uncovered," she says softly, keeping her distance and, strangely, Jack thinks that perhaps she is wiser for it. He doesn't feel like himself. He doesn't know what he's supposed to feel like, or if what he's feeling is even real and— _she, she is the moon_.

"There are many laws of the Spirit World, and I, like any other, am confined to them."

"The... The what?"

"You have embraced your place as a Guardian... But there is more than just the world that you see." Her light continues to shine, soft and flowing against the night's winter breeze, but it sounds like she is asking him a question, something important, and he doesn't know how to answer. "There is more to _you_ , as well."

Something inside of him snaps; it's a quick, quiet thing, like the breaking of a small, frail twig."You've gotta be kidding me," he whispers. _Three hundred years of isolation? For what? For this?_

"There is another world, Jack," she tries to smile, but all he feels is numb. "A world beyond your wildest imagination."

"Is that where you live?" he asks, blankly, vacantly.

"Sometimes," she concedes, and Jack still does not understand why her smile is sad. Perhaps she feels guilty for what she has done to him and _she_ _is_ _guilty, isn't she?_ He doesn't know that, but he feels it. Who else could have done this to him? "My place is between the two," she explains, but his eyes are stuck to the icy pond. This is where he died. This is where he changed. He'd died, and this is where it happened.

"Why?" he whispers again.

She knows what he is really asking, but it's not the question she chooses to answer. Her smile turns frail, but he doesn't see. "My place is to watch over all, and to guide the Guardians of the night."

Jack breathes in and—

If his heart bursts, he wonders, will he find nothing but shattered ice?

"I don't believe this," he spits suddenly, turning his back on the moon—she's _here_ , the moon is _here—_ because everything he'd ever been told about the moon is a lie. And it makes Jack _angry—_ irrationally, blindingly angry—the way she is able to speak to him so calmly, so serenely, with such concern and care in her eyes and _he doesn't want to see any more._ It does not matter that the moon led him to his family, directed him to his destiny, _oh no_ , because—because the moon hadn't let him die, and in doing so had _left him to die_ , in a way, through centuries of loneliness and a heartache he couldn't hide from, couldn't understand—and there is a young woman in front of him who he knows to be the moon, who he _knows_ , but nothing is as it was supposed to be, and he is confused.

"There is more, Jack."

"So... So why now?" he rasps again, and he is rapidly losing control. "Why speak to me _now_? You didn't even go so far as to reach out to us when Pitch was a threat, not like this, so why—"

"Because interfering with the balance is not my place," she explains softly, and he isn't looking at her, but he can hear the pain in her voice. Is that regret? He hopes it is. "That is the responsibility of the Guardians. I merely offer guidance, when I am entitled to."

"So then what are you here for?" he demands, crossing his arms, and he _knows_ that this is not how he usually acts, not the typical Jack that he has always been, but he refuses to care.

"It is a rare thing, but I am not here before you now solely as the Moon Spirit... I am speaking with the heart of someone I once was a long, long time ago. There was a name given to me at the time of my first birth, a forgotten name, but I would like you to know it." And finally, she sweeps closer, floating like the wind itself. "Once upon a time, my name was Yue. Princess Yue."

There is a beat, and Jack falters. "Princess?" he whispers, brows furrowing.

Again, that sad, sad smile. "My people have long since passed," she tells him, and Jack does not know how to hear this. "By the time of your birth, they were but ancient memories... They were from another world entirely. But I am here now, with you, because perhaps our worlds are not so different after all. I see much of myself in you."

"Me?" Jack asks incredulously. He looks on at her flowing dress, distracted. "But how?"

"Like you, I wasn't always what I am now," she explains. "I had a life, a family, a completely different future... It was hard for me to let go."

"But I _have_ let go," he responds in confusion, and he can feel the ice of the pond behind him, calling him out on his lies. "I mean, I wasn't really given much of a choice, was I?" he spits angrily. "I didn't hold onto my memories. It wasn't until three centuries later that I even knew they _existed_! And now it's been so long—I can't even—I don't know how to feel about them anymore!" his voice rises, and now his control is gone. "I _died_! I died and that's it. End of story."

"You didn't just die, Jack," Yue speaks softly, and the pain is more evident in her voice than ever. "You gave back the life force that was gifted to you in order to save someone you loved, and in return you were granted another. Another existence. Your rightful existence."

"But why _me_?" he asks angrily, and finally, the crux of the matter surfaces. "There are so many others who are more worthy of being a Guardian! Those who have done so much more than I have! Soldiers! Doctors! I—I _know,_ now, that I'm a Guardian..." He catches his breath, and tries to swallow. "But... but how am I supposed to believe... that you chose _me?_ And I know it was you," he whispers, finally looking back into her eyes; he'd only ever seen such blue in his reflection. "I know it was you who chose me. But I don't know why."

And then she is right before him, only a few feet away, and it takes all of his strength not to move back. She looks solid, whole, but he has the feeling that if he were to touch her, he would pass right through. When she speaks, there is light in her eyes, and he is momentarily thrown. "Your act of selflessness made you notable, but your _spark_... it made you someone that I knew people would believe in. And it was an act that I, personally, admire."

"So is that why you came all the way down here?" he scoffs. "To congratulate me?"

"I came down because I worry for you," she whispers.

 

 

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Like I said... I see myself in you."

.

.

.

.

.


	2. ( ii )

"Will I see it one day?" he asks, gazing out from the ocean's shore. Black and more black and then— _light_.

"See what?" she asks, voice gentle as always. Sometimes he just wishes that she would _say_ something. Something meaningful, at least. Something to make him think of her as a person.

"The Spirit World."

He waits as she pulls her words together. "I suppose that it is not up to me," she admits. "Although I would like you to."

Jack shifts, feeling his feet sink into the cold sand. The pebbles grow cold, but the water does not freeze, and he has to admit that this is why loves the sea; it's the only thing bigger than he is, the only thing that will not respond to his icy touch.

"I still don't get it," he mutters, and the corner of his mouth tilts ever-so-slightly upward—which is strange, he thinks, to be relaxing in front of the moon—but apparently he no longer seems to care. "If you're down here, then how are you still _up there_?"

And to his great surprise, she laughs. He turns back around, eyeing her incredulously, suspiciously. Jack liked to laugh, and he didn't really mind laughing at himself, but he'd spent one too many centuries thinking that the moon was laughing down at him all the while, and the subject was still too sore.

"I am the Moon Spirit, Jack. Not the moon itself."

"What's the difference?" he mutters, kicking at the pebbles.

"The wind existed before you did, did it not?" she counters, and the first trace of _challenge_ in her voice raises goosebumps over his long, pale arms. "Just as the frost and the snow invited you into its power, the moon called to me. I am a part of the moon, but I am no more the moon itself than you are these flakes of snow."

"Then what _am_ I?" he spins, his staff cutting through the air, and it is only when his eyes travel all the way down the length of his staff to the deep eyes of the moon that he realizes that he doesn't know who he is anymore.

"You are Jack Frost," she tells him gently, voice strong. "You are a Guardian."

She does not move away, does not disappear, and Jack begins to wonder about all those centuries spent resenting the moon, and whether or not they were worth it.


	3. ( iii )

He asks her one night, when the curiosity has become too much.

"Why do people think that a _man_ lives in the moon?"

And when she laughs, he does not understand why it sound so bitter.

"Why does anyone think that it's a man's world?" she questions, looking him in the eye with a burning sort of demand, and for a moment he does not know if she expects him to answer. But then she turns away and he exhales, feeling almost dizzy. "Patriarchs with their strong words and slanted ideas... I had hoped over the millenia that people might change. And although for a time I imagined that I could almost see it, it seems that the world is still not yet ready. People have long forgotten my name, but it is no matter. The moon existed before the rise of man, and is thus not defined by their beliefs."

This gives Jack pause.

"People don't... People don't believe in you?" he whispers, turning toward her from his spot on the fallen log. She stands before the moon, profile alight with her own glow, and he can see the resemblance more clearly now than ever.

"The moon faces different challenges, Jack," she laughs again, a quick, sharp sound through the curve of a tight smile. "The problem is that people are all too willing to believe."

Jack's face tightens, and his brows draw themselves into a knot. "I don't... I don't understand."

He doesn't understand why she isn't looking at him.

"Most humans, and most understandably adults, prefer to believe in something that they can trust."

"You mean something that they can see?"

"Not always," she corrects. "One cannot see trust, or faith. It is the constancy that people yearn for. The moon is predictable, constant, intangible and tangible all at once. With each passing year it has only grown easier for people to believe in the tangibility of the moon—it is a place, after all. It is a _somewhere_. This, they believe. Because the moon is seen as a _something_ , a _somewhere_ , it has lost its face. The people have always believed in the moon, but it was not long before they began to believe that they could control the soul that dwells there, as well. Imagine their surprise—their anger, their disappointment—were they to ever learn that the face of their precious Man in the Moon was none other than that of a young woman's."

She still does not look at him even then, and to Jack this almost makes it worse.

"Look," he clears his throat. "I—"

"It is easier for children to believe in the fairytales and lore," she continues, and her words wash right over his. He stares up into her light, and realizes that something is different now; _this_ is the moon, and the young woman who he first met by the pond— _Yue—_ this is not her voice.

"It is easier for adults to encourage them, because it is a world of magic. In the course of their evolution, they have forgotten that magic is real, that it is intended to protect. They are forgetting the power of magic, just as my people's ways were forgotten, and eventually lost. You are not merely a Guardian of the night, Jack Frost, or of the children, but a Guardian of magic itself.

"But the moon is the guide," she says quietly, and Jack notices just how much more closely he's moved in order to hear her. He is but an arms' reach away. "I am the guide that leads the wanderers through the night, but like the waning crescent, I am not always quite so visible." It is only when she looks at him does he realize that he has moved without thinking, with mere feeling, and is standing beside her, moving closer still. "My powers are limited, Jack. But even within my limits, I have some measure of control. It is not the beliefs of mortals that determines my existence; when it is my place to decide, _I_ choose who sees me. It is a power I never held in life."

She turns her gaze back to the moon, small hands tucked away in the long flowing sleeves of her white gown, and Jack is once again struck with the notion that she may be untouchable. Would she feel it? If he were to reach for her?

_I see you_ , he thinks.

And he wonders— _why?_


	4. ( iv )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** Again, having read _After Dark_ is not necessary, I suppose... but it will help.

It's not what he wants to hear.

"I don't know what you're—"

"It is okay to feel attached, Jack... It is natural for us to grow close to those whom we protect. But I must warn you that _this..._ this will only end in pain."

 _She doesn't know,_ he thinks. _She doesn't understand._

"I was in love with a boy," she cuts in, voice soft, but hard, and he stiffens. "Back when I was human. I was betrothed to another, prepared to throw away my love for the good of my people, but I never got the chance. I made sacrifice in other ways."

Jack tries not to think of a young woman with brown hair and deep eyes and a window in a house near the woods, but he does. "What happened to him?"

And it is here, now, that he sees the lifetimes reflected in her eyes. "He died many eons ago, as all mortals do."

He shakes his head, mind blank.

"We are of a different world, Jack," she says softly. "Even if she were to know you, now that the children believe, it could not last."

"I could watch over her," he whispers, grasping.

But then Yue looks away, lines of heartache and loss, and the heart in his chest finally bursts. There is no shattered ice, but the pieces still pierce all the same.

"If you must," she says through her sad smile. "But it will never be enough."


	5. ( v )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Notes:** _12/22/12_. So much for five _drabbles_. Here is the fifth and final installment of this crossover. It was so fun to write and definitely helped fix my Yue craving a bit. It actually kind of reminded me of how I felt while writing _Beyond Lost_ , my Zutara one-shot-turned-mini-series. Until _break the ice_ , that was my all-time favorite one-shot. Thanks again, **ebonyquill** , for this idea! (She knows of my love for Yue all too well.)
> 
>  **Musical Inspiration:** "Yue Becomes the Moon Spirit" from the Avatar: The Last Airbender Original Sound Track and "Pieces" by Red.  
>  **Beta'd** by **ebonyquill** , even though I've been e-mailing her like every other day this week. :P
> 
> .
> 
>  
> 
> .
> 
>  
> 
> (I love these characters so much, and this is what I believe.)
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Holidays, all.
> 
>  
> 
> .
> 
>  
> 
> .

* * *

"So why Jack _Frost_ then? Didn't winter happen all on its own before, without me?" he asks, tossing another small stone into the waves. "I don't get why you'd need some legendary figure puppet to help it along."

"Old Man Winter had grown tired over the centuries. He was already so close to the end when he took on the role, it was assured that he would not last more than a few millenia."

"Ah," he mutters, feeling a new wave of shock settle into his bones. Though truthfully, this time, he guesses it's not so bad. It almost feels like acceptance is a bit... easier?

Maybe.

"Hence why you needed a fresh-faced, strapping young man to fill his shoes," he finishes with heavy sarcasm. "Right. Got it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Yue trying to swallow her smile. A stray thought passes through his mind, and he wonders how old Yue was when _she_ turned; from the looks of her, she couldn't be more than sixteen... but he knows better than to make guesses like that anymore. Not with all the crazy— _the magic_ —that he's seen. He wonders why he'd never thought about it before, and what that says about him.

"So I got all of his old powers?" he asks abruptly, trying to break away from his own thoughts.

"And some new ones, too," Yue affirms, showing her smile more clearly now. "I don't think Old Man Winter ever had it in his mind that ice could be so useful for sledding; he was much more fond of blizzards and ice caps."

And Jack smiles back. "Yeah. I guess I did put my personal touch on things a bit, didn't I?" But then, uncontrollably, almost unwillingly, he thinks, _Well, Old Man Winter didn't have much of a thing for freezing over skating ponds, now did he?_

When he looks up, Yue is frowning again. "Are you still angry, Jack?"

"Yes," he says immediately, but then hesitates. "And... no. I just... I just think about all the things I thought I might have wanted, but never had the time to think about before. Like… would I have wanted to be a father? I never knew much of my own. Things like that? I mean, I never got to see my little sister grow up, see her start her own family. I wasn't thinking about that at seventeen, you know? All of my other friends were starting to marry off, so I was already late in the game, but I didn't want to think about that kind of responsibility. I refused. I wasn't about to lose sight of my mom and my sister over some girl," he scoffs. "But... I guess, I guess it was more than that. I'd just never found anybody who I really felt could be... I don't know." Jack thinks he probably sounds stupid. And—a little too late—he realizes that he's probably being insensitive, too.

"I'm sorry," he blurts immediately, and if he could _blush_ — "I didn't mean to—I forgot that—"

"You should never apologize for remembering your memories," she says softly. "Indeed, you have lived too long without them."

He falters over the word _lived_. Has he been living? Is that what he's been doing? Because if this is living, then he doesn't want to know what—

"I was the daughter of the moon," she tells him, and he halts. He's not sure what she sees on his face, but whatever it is— _the curse of Jack Frost_ —it brings laughter from her eyes. "I was first the daughter of the great Chief Arnook, of the Northern Water Tribe, but then again... since destiny knows no sense of time, perhaps I have always belonged to the Moon."

He continues to look at her, wondering why she is sharing this.

"When I was born into my tribe, I was very sick; when even the greatest healers of the North could not help me, my parents feared the worst. My father prayed to the Tui, the Moon Spirit, the most treasured guardian of my clan. They placed my small body in the waters of the ancient Spirit Oasis, where Tui and La—the spirit of the Ocean—had taken refuge in the physical world. I was given a special gift." And her eyes— _blue, blue like his own_ —flash in the darkness. "Tui bestowed part of her essence upon me, and so I became a child of the Moon, _for_ the Moon. Yue."

"But," Jack's brows draw together. "But if you were just a baby—"

"I lived a normal life, with a very blessed existence," she smiled, and another small breath of laughter pushes through. "Well, as normal as that of a Princess', anyway... The Moon had saved my life, and so I did all that I could to display my gratitude. I lived for the moon, and for its people… _my_ people. The women in my time were limited in many ways... but I, too, wished to guard them. I... I _knew_ that my purpose was special. I just didn't know what that purpose was. I thought I knew, for many years, but I couldn't have imagined until... Until one night, when it all suddenly became very clear to me.

"I was betrothed to a warrior named Hahn," she says, sitting tall and strong. "He was a fiend, arrogant and selfish, but fearless in battle, which earned him notice. He was to be the next chief of our proud tribe, and I couldn't allow myself to admit even for a moment that I despised him."

"But your father—"

"Limited, Jack," she smiles sadly. "In many ways... As a woman, I was bound to subservience. As a Princess, I was bound to obligation. As a child of the Moon, I was bound to destiny.

"Not long after the proposal, just as my father was beginning to make the arrangements, a great danger fell upon our home. The world was at war, and we were quickly growing caught in the crossfire, even as isolated as we were. We received help from a small, but powerful group of visitors..." She swallows. "Of that group was a boy. A young man."

 _This is private_ , Jack thinks. He shouldn't be listening, but _what would it be like_ , he wonders. _What would it be like to_ _feel that kind of love?_

"It was a tragic love," she whispers. "Doomed to end young, even before we ever laid eyes on one another. I was resistant to his efforts at first, and with good reason, being what and who I was... but we never stood a chance. It was fate. Our love was a quiet one, short-lived through secret walks along bridges of ice in the dark, or hiding in plain sight in the sunlight along the waterfront. But I had a duty to fulfill; I was engaged to a man I couldn't love for the sake of my people... for the Moon. He didn't understand, and though it nearly broke me, I couldn't fault him for it; my life was simply not mine to give."

Jack swallows, and tries to stamp down the guilt, but he is met with little success. Did he say that he'd had a hard death? Is that what he'd said? Did he say that he'd lost something precious? The potential of a good life? What's that saying—that it's better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all?

 _They must never have met Yue,_ Jack thinks sadly.

"He was the first to volunteer himself among the warriors who set out to protect our walls," she whispers. "On the night of the feast, I watched him receive the mark of battle upon his brow, placed upon his skin by the hands of my father, and watched him stand behind my betrothed, the leader of the pack." She shakes her head, and her face crumbles. She breathes deeply. "What fools men are," she laughs, cold and bitter and— _is this Yue, or is this the Moon?_ "But even then, while I feared the worst, I could never have truly known... That is the real humor in destiny; we are never to know ours until the precise moment before it happens... otherwise, we may never have the courage needed to fulfill it."

She's quiet for a few moments, and Jack has this uncomfortable fullness in his chest, like a swelling ball of pressure is expanding his ribcage and—it takes him a moment—but he realizes that it's _anger_ , that it's disgust and frustration, and at first he thinks that it's just toward their fates, their histories, their suffering—and then he realizes that it's also toward _himself_.

But he has to wonder if that's where the story ends. _Did the soldier die? Did she... when he was gone, did she... Or did she marry the other warrior, her betrothed?_

"For all that our fortress was grand, the guards were quickly shot down," she says suddenly, quietly, as if she is reliving the sight before her very eyes. "Mountains, walls of ice, they were no match for such fiery canons. My husband-to-be died in battle while infiltrating the enemy's ship," she swallows, and Jack is stunned. "But I had no time to grieve, for I was rushed away to safety. My father trusted this newcomer, and had ordered him to protect me... and so he did.

"But we were attacked by a cruel, ambitious man. His soul was not black, but his heart was a dark, dangerous place. In his quest for domination, he attacked that which my people needed most. The spirit of the Moon."

"You mean... You mean he—"

"He stole Tui from her place in the oasis, and then he burned her," she says, cold and dead. "I watched him streak red across her delicate body, the one she had conjured to be closer to us, to better protect _us_. I watched it burn. I watched _her_ burn." She swallows. "It might as well have been myself.

"We thought all was lost," she whispers, and Jack is right there, right next to her, but she is far, far away. "I was with my soldier, my warrior, at long last, but how could I rejoice when my world was so quickly falling apart? It was an old man, a wise guardian amidst the invaders, who reminded me of my gift. He reminded me that I had been touched by the Moon Spirit. And I knew."

 _You knew what?_ He thinks, breathing heavily, but _he knows it, too_ , even though he'd give anything to have it not be true. _What did you know?_

"I won't say it was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do because the years that immediately followed unleashed new _worlds_ of heartache," she smiles, and now more than ever, Jack realizes that her smile _is a lie_. "But I will never forget. I will never forget the feeling of my hand, slipping through his glove... I only ever once felt his skin with my own, you know. Always too much separating us," she whispers, and Jack feels a pang strike deep and burning in his chest. "He tried to stop me. But I _knew_ , and in that moment, in that single moment, I was strong. My sacrifice went against his every wish, and every wish of mine, but his orders to protect me were no longer necessary; my life wasn't mine to give.

"I placed my hands upon Tui's ruined body... and that's all it took. My last human memory is falling, and being caught, and held, in a pair of warm, gentle arms. When I awoke...

"I kissed him goodbye. I was no longer engaged, no longer a Princess bound by duty. I was the Spirit of the Moon, and I kissed my warrior, my almost lover, goodbye. I took my rightful place in the sky, and with my powers and with the guidance of La, I was able to save my people from the siege and to return my tribe to safety. I watched over my people with powers that I had never been granted in life.

"But I watched... and I watched and I watched and I watched, for days, months... I watched the years pass by, ever-changing, ever-the-same. My soldier found a strong and loyal wife, a partner who could challenge him in all the ways I had been taught against, who took care of him and loved him with all her heart. She was a good mother and a good friend."

"You... you mean—"

"He still spoke to me sometimes, when he could," she smiles, and he wonders if the moon can cry. "Sometimes when others were listening, and sometimes when they were not.

"I watched his children grow for as long as I could... but if there's anything that I have learned over the centuries, it is that mortals can never escape tragedy for long. There was no grand catastrophe, no explosive catalyst that wiped out all that I had ever known... my world and its ways died little by little in the hearts of non-believers, and soon all that I had ever loved was forgotten. It was not long before my name and my legacy followed.

"I had promised him that I would always be with him," she whispers. "But he passed into the Spirit World long, long ago... His one regret, even in his dying breath, was that he had not protected me, as my father had ordered. But men are fools, and love is foolish, and so was I. He _did_ protect me, and I protected him, and his family, and his descendants, in return... for as long as I could."

Jack does not know what to say. He feels like a part of him has slipped from his body, slipped through the cracks in his soul, and left him hollow.

"The guardian of the moon is not meant to have a place in this physical realm," Yue continues. "Although Tui and La made their choice in an effort to watch over their children, it is too dangerous. That is why, Jack, I was not able to come to you before."

"But you're here now," he says without thinking, even though he's said it before, even though he's heard her answer, because he still doesn't understand.

"As a human, I was always very adept at separating my duty from the matters of my heart. I have since learned that there is a difference between my duty as the moon, and my duty as the person I once was. There is power in names, Jack, and there is power in memories. The duties are different, but they are important all the same. I shall not neglect them again.

"I came to you because I saw the pain in your heart," she says softly. "Although you have finally found your family, you are still not at peace. Your duties to the children, to the earth, they are the reason that you continue to exist, but your duty to your memories, to your heart, that is the reason that you continue to live."

_To live?_

"You have learned so much, Jack," Yue smiles, but her cerulean eyes seem to beg. "Think of all of the good that you have brought into this world. Think of how many people have been gifted by your compassion."

"I... I've met so many people," Jack thinks aloud, staring into the waves of the sea. He can almost feel the spray of distant sea foam— _can't he?_ "I've _seen_ so much... Had I still been alive, I would never have... I would never..."

_I would never have met you._

He wants to say the words, but they are stuck on his tongue.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Yue whispers.

"What?"

"The waves," she breathes, and he doesn't know how, but he can _feel_ her in them, now that he's paying attention. He inhales deeply, smelling the salt and the fresh air in the winter wind.

"You control them?" he asks, looking at her in awe. He _knew_ that the moon affected the tides, but...

"A bender at long last," she whispers.

"What?"

Yue looks down, hiding her gaze, and— _after all this time_ —Jack wonders why. "One day," she says slowly. "One day I will tell you more of the world in which I lived, and the story of a time before magic... Or, perhaps, the first trace of it."

She sighs then— _a soft, soothing sound, like the caress of a wave_ —but suddenly the swells lapping at the shore feel restless, and the rush sets Jack's nerves on edge; he's not sure what these instincts are or what they mean, but his attentions spikes, and his awareness floods his senses. She turns to him and he looks up at her, searching, but she is serene and calm and _where did Yue go?_

"I wish you luck, Jack."

He stiffens, startled. It had been so quiet before, so peaceful, just sitting here along the shore with the waves at his feet, with Yue near.

But this sounds like goodbye.

"What for?" he asks, wary. He hardly moves, and even his breathing is slow, careful, almost as if he— _almost_ —

—almost as if he is afraid of scaring her away.

"I've told you before that I offer guidance," she reminds him quietly, and it's almost eerie, the way that she can turn it off and on like that—she is still Yue, but not, and _he wants her back_. "I told you much about myself tonight. I do not regret it, but I realize now that, for the time being, I have given all that I have within me to give."

She lets it hang in the air; she doesn't need to say anymore because he already _knows_.

"You're... you're leaving?" There is a language spoken in the wind, and he listens. "You're not coming back?"

"I will always be here."

"You know what I mean," he bites out, trying not to snap, and failing. The swelling in his chest takes on a tightness, a tension that is making it hard to feel the air coming in through his lungs. "I thought that—I thought—"

"That I was here to stay?"

"Well," he flounders, feeling young and _stupid_ and selfish and confused. "You said that you chose who got to see you, and—"

"Ahh," she says. "I see. I may choose those who see me, but I don't choose who _sees_. You are the first in many, many years."

"What?" he breathes, feeling his fingers begin to shake.

"Limited, Jack," Yue smiles, but— _are those tears in her eyes?_ "Always."

"Wait," he rises, looking at down at her on the sand. "Just _wait_ —I—I don't understand."

She pulls herself up, a vision of ethereal grace and light with all the fluidity and power of her element, and by the time she stands to face him, he has already lost his words.

"Where will you go?" he asks instead. _Is there a home for the moon?_

"I must return to the Spirit World. I will guide and you will guard, and together, we will protect the young souls of our world," says the moon. "That is the way."

"But— _now_? This can't be it," Jack demands. "This can't be all there is. What about everything you just said about fulfilling the duties of your heart? They—they led you here, didn't they? There has to be more."

Yue pauses, her glowing light floating with the chilling breeze— _and its Yue's eyes that he sees but the moon's voice that he hears_ —and she says, "We are not meant for more."

He looks at her then, small and fragile-looking, but _so_ strong, and powerful with all the eons of wisdom and heartache and _he wonders again, what would happen_ —

"How do you know?" he whispers, shifting his bare toes forward in the sand.

"It... it's impossible," she whispers back, but her brow has drawn low and there is something in her voice, something that gives Jack hope; the eternity of her pause has given him something to hold onto.

"You said it was dangerous for you to be here permanently," he says, trying to keep his voice even—but he can feel the pressure in his chest rising, can feel the urgency behind his words, and she is looking at him now like he is brand new, like he is a different person and— _maybe it's the hope inside him, but_ —he thinks that it might look like she is hanging onto his every word. "But you had to get here somehow, didn't you?"

" _Jack_ ," she shakes her head, pleading now, and it _kills_ him, because of all the souls in the world, _she's_ the one who deserves this pain the least, who shouldn't be made to suffer this loss again, but _he has to try._ "Jack, please. I am not a part of this world the way Tui once was—it takes a great deal of strength to be here as I am—this, _this form_ —I _cannot_ stay."

"But you can _return_ ," he breathes, and with the force of his inhale, he pulls himself closer, mere inches away from where she stands, wringing her fingers before her waist. He steps closer because he has heard the switch, because he has seen it in her eyes. "At least, for a little while—and then, after you get your strength back up again—

"Jack—"

"I don't care," he assures her, immediately, repeatedly, truthfully. "I don't care how long I have to wait to see you again, or what I have to do to follow you, just as long as I know that I _will_ see you again." He watches her eyes fill with sorrow, and he swallows. "Just as long as I know that we'll be together again."

"Jack, listen to me," she tries, voice calm but fragile, _but he won't listen_. "My place is in the sky, and yours is in the wind."

"Then what a better place to meet?" he whispers, and now Yue's breath is short and sharp, because he is close, closer than ever before. She looks up into his eyes, and he looks down into hers, and _it's there_ , the urge to reach for her, the paralyzing fear that he will find nothing— _that she'll be just another dream, just a mirag_ e—

But even he knows that he could never have dreamed up a heart like hers.

"I am no longer meant for love," she whispers, as the first tear falls from her eyes.

"If there is anyone in this world," and then he laughs a small breath—because he is Jack Frost, and she, _she_ is the Moon—and says, "If there is anyone in this world—or out of it—that is meant to guide love, then it is the moon. It's you."

"But—"

And when he reaches for her—

—her hand is soft.

Warm.

He stills, terrified beyond anything he's ever known before, beyond any fear Pitch could ever hope to conjure. He feels as if he is an anchor now, that the two delicate fingers he has in his grasp are just a product of his imagination— _his long-forgotten, impossible dreams_ —and that the link where they are connected now is the only things holding her to him. He fears that if he were to let go now, she would disappear, possibly forever. He wants to look down at their touching hands, he wants to make sure that it's real—he can _feel it_ , and he should know better than _seeing is believing_ , but he _wants_ to see, he wants to keep that memory with him forever, because— _in truth_ —

—he has never felt more alive.

She inhales sharply, as if to speak, but he doesn't give her the chance.

"I'll wait for you," he vows, promising with all of his heart. Slowly, carefully, he twists his wrist, sliding long, smooth fingers over soft, pale knuckles, grip firm but gentle, and in his touch he tells her that he is there, here, and _make no mistake—I am not letting you go._

"I'll wait until you can come," he whispers, feeling his fingers slide over hers, curling tight over the back of her hand, as he watches her eyes widen and glisten in the moonlight. "Or until I can go with you. Whatever it takes."

She shakes her head, feebly, and swallows. "You don't know what you're asking. Even if I were to save my strength, it could take days... weeks, before I see you again." When she stares at him, he can feel the sparks bursting in his eyes, and he hopes that she can see them, too. "It could be _years_ , Jack."

But he only smiles, and steps forward.

"Yue," he whispers. She shuts her eyes at the sound of her name, unspoken for so long by anyone other than herself, but when his fingertips find her cheek, her gaze snaps open.

"You've waited for so much for so _long_ , Jack," comes her broken whisper, and he feels the cool touch of another tear against his skin. "I couldn't ask you to wait any longer."

He traces the shape of her jaw with the backs of his knuckles, almost reverently, feeling less and less afraid. "You won't have to ask," he tilts his head down, feeling his world collapse to a startling shade of blue. Slowly, carefully, he slides his thumb toward her lips, pausing at the corner; he can feel the heat of her skin all the way down to his core.

"Jack?" she breathes, and he can feel the movement beneath his fingertips. All it takes is one gentle sweep, and his thumb brushes along her lower lip, feeling the warmth and the softness, and he wonders—

"I've waited centuries to live," he whispers. "I won't wait any longer to love."

And when they kiss— _skin upon skin, light upon light, smile against smile, bathed in tears_ —it is all that he hoped for, all that he dreamed of, it is of sparks and moonlight, and—

It is worth the wait.

* * *

 

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_There is a story, for those who believe, of a pair of lovers separated by worlds apart._

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_Ever a patient pair, these spirits—guides and guardians of the night—complete their duties to the earth while living in wait for the chance to meet again. It is an unpredictable and_ _cherished_ _gift to be granted_ _,_   
_but it is not a difficult love. And they are a clever pair, who have found other ways to pass the time;_   
_endlessly, they reach for one another, waiting until they will again reunite._

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_Where the sky meets winter, where the wind and waves meet,  
that is where you can _ _almost_ _see them, if you are lucky._

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_If you believe._

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